


Outside The Classroom

by cc12313



Category: Carmilla (Web Series)
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-12
Updated: 2015-10-12
Packaged: 2018-04-25 23:51:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,650
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4981585
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cc12313/pseuds/cc12313
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mattie is a black history studies professor and Perry is accidentally her student. ONE SHOT.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Outside The Classroom

She had chosen a class at random for her minor. She moved her finger around the page muttering ‘Ip Dip’ under her breath and covered the course name with her finger from where it landed. She kept it covered and slid it over the table to LaFontaine and Laura so that they could write it down and register her in.

It was a strange idea but it all came from a book she had read before the start of the year. It challenged her to take chances. To close one’s eyes and take a leap. That was where she got the idea. While she didn’t take a chance with her major, she knew for a long time she wanted to study German, she did think it was okay for her minor.

Laura and LaF looked at each other, their eyebrow’s shooting up at the course Perry had picked.

“You sure about this Perr?” LaF asked.

Their tone not exactly supporting the idea. Did she choose something bad? She prayed it wasn’t something like introductions to massages for geriatrics.

She nodded. “Yes.”

Two weeks later had her going to collect her class schedule for the semester and she would find out what she would be minoring in. She pulled the paper out of the envelope, looking at her timetable. Her first class that day was her minor.

She needed to talk to the professor of the class about this.

* * *

 

 

 

She headed up the stairs to the classroom, filling with the students headed into the same room and looked around, the professor had yet to arrive. She took a seat in the middle, deciding to take a seat until the professor turned up and she could get this sorted out. She thought her attendance there would garner some strange looks but the rest of the students went about their own business, getting their supplies out and organizing them on their desks.

Some were lost in their own thoughts about the class while others talked about the syllabus of the semester. She heard some of them whisper horror stories about the professor. How they had failed a student whose mother had died the same day she had taken her finals and how they once set fire to a student’s essay right in front of them. It made her think how this professor got away with behavior like that? Why would people still sign up for this class if the professor was as horrible as they were saying?

All whispers stopped the moment she stepped in.

Carrying herself with the confidence and composure of a Queen, she strode to her desk and smacked her briefcase down making them all jump. She pressed the button on the laptop, bringing the first slide of the power point up on the screen readying it for later use. She pulled a long stick out from beneath the desk and twirled it between her hands.

“I’m sure you’ve all heard the stories and yes they are true. I will fail without mercy and grade without taking your feelings into consideration so for those of you who think sucking up will change anything, it won’t.” She looked out over the classroom, taking in the new faces of the student’s whom she would be lecturing that semester. “I don’t care about your own personal problems. You leave them outside this classroom because I will not spoon feed any of you. You all chose this class whether it be for a wider breadth of knowledge or to use while working within the community in areas such as politics, health care or maybe to go on and teach this class later in your own career’s.”

She sat up in her chair, straightening her back, her interest peaked at the discussion. Maybe she should stick with this class and see how things worked out. That, and she was too afraid to raise her hand and ask for a transfer.

“If any of you are rethinking your choice of picking this class, the door is right there and you can leave through it.” No one moved. That was her window to move but alas the coward inside her won the fight. Her inner curiosity also winning the fight, wanting to know how this class would work out. “With that I think introductions are in order.”

“I’m Professor Belmonde and this is Black History Studies.”

With that she pulled a remote from her pocket and clicked the button, turning on the projector overhead and showing the slideshow to the class. After she clicked through the first introduction slide she settled on the second, the items on it slightly confusing those in the class. There was Martin Luther King’s name on the left hand side, then a line going through the middle separating his name from those on the right hand side.

“Ella Baker, Fannie Lou Hammer, among a few. What separates them from the right hand side?” She asked the class.

After a few minutes of silence, she huffed loudly and smacked the stick down on her desk.

“Am I talking to myself here? Come on, one of you take a guess if need be.”

One guy raised his hand. “They are women?”

She looked at him with irritation. “Clearly you need to be up closer to the board because you must be blind to not see there are two males also on the right hand side.”

He sunk down in his seat as she looked around the rest of the room, searching to see if another one was brave enough to take a guess.

She caught the eye of a girl in the back and pointed her stick at her. “You. Take a guess as to the difference between these people.”

She gulped, setting her pen down and looking at the board. “Maybe poverty or health issues?”

“Poverty? What-where would you? I really don’t want to know.” She gave the room a once over again and walked up the aisle, glaring at them one by one. “Is this what I’m going to deal with for the rest of the semester? This is an absolute disgrace. Have any of you even picked up a book on any of these people?”

Lola had drawn out the slide, in a smaller version, on her notebook and tried to figure it out. She thought she had something but she was too nervous to voice her opinion. She had finished writing a thought about the subject and circled it before the notebook was ripped off her desk. She looked up with wide eyes as professor Belmonde read over her notes. The woman didn’t say anything but handed her back the notebook which she gladly took.

She walked down to the front and addressed the class. “At least one person here has taken an educated guess and it’s paid off, although, she was only half correct.” She smirked up at Perry.

“While Martin Luther King is known for his work in the civil rights movement it is not through his speech that history is made but through the work these people on the right, who refused to accept American Apartheid. Through their work and contributions we will learn about histories of resistance, privilege and inequality and the humanities of this community.” Her voice resonating loud and strong around them. “We will also be looking at literature, culture and not focusing solely on history, which, by the looks of today, will be a blessing to most if not all of you.” She clicked onto the next slide, showing the names of the books she wanted them to get and let them write it down.

As they wrote in silence she looked at the girl who was the only one to have gotten her question right. She was going to be fun, the right one’s always were.

* * *

 

 

Pouring rain was the third strike of bad luck going for her that morning. The first two were her favorite cup breaking and then having her toaster set itself on fire. Today really wasn’t her day. She walked to the bus stop, student card in hand only to have a big red sign plastered on the bus stop sign. Apparently, after a night of negotiations the bus drivers would strike and there would be no services until further notice.

Yes, today really wasn’t her day.

She contemplated heading back home and curling up in bed when a black Mercedes pulled up in front of her. The car beeped and she looked around to see if there was anyone else around. There wasn’t. It couldn’t be for her, she didn’t know anybody who drove a car like that or drove a car, period.

The door opened and she saw professor Belmonde leaning across the seat, slightly miffed. “Are you deaf?”

Lola shook her head, her mouth dry unable to form coherent words.

“You’re wasting my time, get in if you want a ride or walk, whatever suits you.”

She didn’t waste time and hopped into the vacant seat, the rain wetting the fabric and vexing the driver because of it.

“Thank you.”

Matska said nothing but flipped on the switch for the seat warmers and turned back out onto the road. Lola sat there rubbing her hands up and down her denim covered thighs, trying to warm them up due to the cold rain drenching her jeans, that and because of nerves bubbling within her. After a few weeks of being in professor Belmonde’s class, she developed a slight crush on the woman.

Who wouldn’t? The woman carried herself with consistent poise and spoke with such conviction, such passion, that it was hard not to fall in love with her words. Those words, which fell freely from supple luscious lips, had her shaking her head many times in class trying to clear inappropriate thoughts from her head. They would leave her be for a while before striking back with a vengeance when the woman would lean back against her desk crossing her legs in front of her, rising her dress slightly. It was a vicious cycle.

Now after being in her class for a few months, her slight crush had developed into full blown, occupying her thought’s every day, hearth palpitations from mere sight of her professor, sort of crush. Being in a car, so close, was torture. In class she got to sit a few rows up but now, now she was right next to the woman trying badly to not steal looks or smell that delicious perfume wafting off her in waves.

“I read your essay last night. I’m still debating the mark I’m going to give it though.”

“O-oh” she cleared her throat before trying again. “Why is that?”

“You made the essay all about you. It isn’t, that was the whole point. I wanted you to develop your own thoughts not just spew opinions on the paper.”

“I wanted to, don’t get me wrong, but I didn’t know how to word it.”

For the first time in the ride she took her eyes off the rode to look at her passenger. “What was it you wanted to say?”

She debated it, what harm could it do. “Your class has taught me so much. I didn’t even realize I was signing up for it. I just took a chance and luckily for me it payed off. The issues you cover and the way you deliver them, it just makes me wonder that if other people took the class or received the same teachings could it help change things.”

“You’re going to have to elaborate for me.”

“What else can these people use to hide themselves behind if they got this education? They could no longer hold claim to ignorance, as an excuse, when they decide to don black face for Halloween or draw nooses on lockers.” She back tracked feeling like she was overstepping with the other woman. “As I said, I didn’t know how to word it. Whatever grade you give me will be fine.”

Matska said nothing and kept her eyes on the road for the rest of the ride. Silence filling the car and a thick atmosphere lingering in the closed space. Lola mentally kicking herself for upsetting the woman.

She was, however, surprised when the next day she got her essay back and a red C was covering the top right hand corner. It was a welcomed surprise, she had thought she was going to fail. She failed to notice the slight smirk being sent her way.

Matska had watched the girl’s expression when she got her paper back. Those wide eyes glowing with astonishment from an unexpected grade. She liked the girl. She spoke up during class discussions and she wasn’t afraid to ask more on topics. She had to tease the confidence out of the girl, at first, but once she had, Lola was actively participating in class. It was saddening that in a few weeks’ time this class would be ending and be replaced with fresh faces all looking to learn what she had to offer. She finished shuffling through the papers on her desk and called up the students one by one to collect them.

* * *

 

 

A few weeks later brought an end to the class, they were all graduating. They decided to hold a party in the downstairs common room in celebration. Lola stood by the bowl filling herself a drink and then bringing the cup to her lips as she surveyed the room. Students mingled together, chatting among-st themselves and the teachers were doing the same. Small groups littered around the room and she spotted her professor right in the middle of one. The woman was keeping quiet tonight, a bored expression, plain as day, on her face. She seemed to sense the looks being sent her way and looked over in Lola’s direction.

She smirked at catching the girl’s blatant while Lola chocked on her drink at the look. She reached around for a napkin and once her breathing was under control she chanced another look only to see the woman was gone. She was trying to work up the nerve to thank the woman for the class but now, the woman was probably out the door of the college.

Her hopes returned when she overheard the teacher’s say that she had gone up to her room, having to retrieve something or other and complaining about how hard the woman worked, how she should take a break and enjoy the night. Lola slipped past them and made her way up the back stairs.

She saw the woman putting a few things into her briefcase and knocked on the door to get her attention.

“Hi, hope I’m not intruding.” She said, sheepishly from the door.

Matska shut her case closed, “Not yet, you’re still standing outside the door.” She grinned to herself as the girl blushed deeply. “What did you want to talk to me about?”

“It wasn’t so much talk but thank.” She played with her hands nervously. “This class was amazing and I learned so much. I actually preferred this over my major, something I never thought I’d say.”

“I wonder why that is.”

“It did help that I had a sensational teacher.” She blurted out, blushing more than she thought possible. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to overstep a boundary.”

Matska chuckled. “There is no boundary to overstep, I’m not your professor anymore.”

“Still, I don’t want to come off as disrespectful.”

“By calling me sensational?” Oh, this was priceless. “The many times I’ve heard that, it was in terms of gratitude and flattery but coming from very different situations.”

“I bet.” Lola muttered.

Matska heard her even though she spoke her words low. If the girl wanted to play then she’d play. “You don’t have to.”

“What?”

“Bet. Not when you have the results ready and waiting for you.” Matska husked, her voice dropping an octave.

She wanted to move forward and whip that smirk off her face but instead found herself shy and slightly embarrassed for making a fool out of herself. The woman was probably messing with her. Knowing she would have to kick things off before the girl took flight, she strode toward her, taking Lola by surprise. She shut the door closed and immediately, Lola was pressed up against it.

The lips she had been dreaming of kissing for months now, were pressed against her own and they were more heavenly than she imagined. She kissed back with just as enthusiasm, nibbling on the woman’s lower lips before sliding her tongue over it, soothingly. Remembering her hands, she brought them into play and gripped onto the woman’s dress covered hips tightly, pulling her close.

 Her knees felt weak when Matska slipped her tongue into her mouth, teasing against her own, tasting her. The pulled back from each other, chests heaving and breaths coming heavy and labored. Their eye’s full blown, filled with lust and wanting. They were back tasting each other moments later, clothes being tugged on, wanting to feel bare skin against bare skin.

“You know, dear, you’re lucky I didn’t grade you on fashion sense.” Matska teased looking at the hideous dress that was now on the floor where it belonged.

Lola ignored the statement and shut the other woman up by sliding a thigh between her legs. Matska gasped and dropped her head onto her shoulder. The sudden pleasure between her legs catching her off guard.

A hand buried itself in her hair and yanked her back when she began to grind, without abandon, on the thigh nestled snugly against her most intimate parts.

“Not here.” Lola panted. “I’ve been dreaming of taking you on that desk for months now and I’m not going to settle for any less.”

Matska nodded, desire burning through her making her forget that she was the one who took charge during sex and led Lola over to the desk by one hand and swept her briefcase off the table with her other hand.

Lola let go of her hand and gripped the back of her thighs, lifting her up onto the desk and slid her hands up the legs in front of her. Sliding tantalizingly under Matska’s dress until she met the top of the woman’s tights and pulled the stockings, slowly, off her before running her hands back up her body and landing on her shoulders.

She pulled on the zipper there until it reached halfway down Matska’s back. She slid the straps off her shoulders, the dress falling off her upper body and settling, bunched up, around her waist. She managed to contain herself when she looked back up and was met with the sight of Matska’s bra-less covered breasts. She ignored them on her path back up Matska’s body, settling on her shoulders once again.

She pushed on them gently, silently asking the woman to lie back, which she granted without hesitation and climbed on top, situating herself between Matska’s open legs. She stole a few more kisses, tracing her tongue over Matska’s lips before moving along her jaw and down to her neck. She had just reached the base of her neck when something hit her.

Begrudgingly, to both of them, she pulled away.

“What?” Matska snapped. The pleasure she was just receiving was ripped away from her and she wanted to know the cause.

“What’s your name?” Lola asked.

She smirked up at the girl. “You can call me Mattie.”

Lola smiled at her and bent back down but this time her mouth went higher, hovering over Matska’s ear. “And you can call me Perry.”

She slid back down Mattie’s body, stopping at her breast and taking a pert nipple into her mouth. Swirling her tongue around the nub and drawing obscene language from the woman quivering in need, underneath her. She nipped lightly at it, wondering what reception the action would get. Mattie liked it. If the hand buried in her hair was any indication. She bit down on Mattie’s nipple and with the woman distracted, she reached beneath her dress and slid her hand into the woman’s lace pantie’s.

Sliding her finger between Mattie's folds, coating her finger in her juice, repeating the action a few times before sliding into her. She pumped slowly until a hoarse whisper of ‘more’ reached her ear. She slid in another finger and pumped harder, thinking that was what the woman wanted. She was right. Hands ran up and down her bare back before the nails came out and scratched her deeply.

Mattie titled her head back, moaning deep and loud at the indulgence her body was finally receiving once more. It was too much. Perry was alternating between breasts. Her tongue twisting and twirling around her nipples. Tracing her areola with the tip of that pink muscle. She felt the burning low in her abdomen building into something more, something she desperately crazed, and something she was finally granted when Perry started rubbing her clit, in hard circles, with her thumb.

She came, groaning the girl’s name and tearing down her back, marking her deeply in angry red lines. Perry kept pumping, prolonging her climax and letting her ride out the pleasure.

When Mattie pushed at shoulder, telling her ‘no more’ she slid her fingers out and without missing a beat, slid them into her mouth. Tasting Mattie on her fingers was her own euphoria. She bent down and kissed Mattie deeply, letting the woman taste her essence on Lola’s lips.

“Give me a second and I’ll wipe that smirk off your face.” Lola laughed before blushing deeply, obviously thinking of something inappropriate which was confusing considering the girl had her fingers buried in her mere moments ago.

“What?”

Lola looked around the room, seeing if she could spot the object her mind was plaguing her with thoughts of.

“Do you still have that stick?”


End file.
